


There's a Symphony Caught Inside

by calrissian18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied Past Snape/Draco, Injured Charlie, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seversk is full of sanctimonious bastards, he’s got a damn talon stuck in his arm and the snow simply <i>will not</i> let up. He’s never been happier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a Symphony Caught Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Seversk really is a closed city to this day and it was a secret city until Boris Yeltsin changed that in 1992 and it started appearing on official maps. How could you not think the entire city was under Fidelius up to that point? Hee. Title from Travis’ song, “Colder” – which is also where my prompt came from! [Axolotl’s](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m9r65dmG941r2geneo1_500.jpg) are goddamn adorable, by the way.
> 
> More Charlie/Draco has occurred. Honestly, I don't know how this keeps happening. Also, there's a blink-and-you-miss-it mention of Snape/Draco.
> 
> Written for charlieficathon @ lj.

 

"This is _bloody_ ridiculous." Charlie leaned across the counter, violence and irritation in every line of his body. Danvers was a grunting and entirely unhelpful sentinel at his back.

"I would be happy to expedite the process, _if_ you had the proper documentation." A long fingernail tapped twice on the plastic counter and a sharp grin flashed his way.

Charlie scrubbed at his hair with heavy, scarred knuckles. He finished off by dragging a craggy palm down his face. "I have the right visas and endorsements, so, why _exactly_ can't I enter?" His cadence slowed as he ground his teeth, speaking to this girl as if she were a dullard. A week prior, he would have called himself a people person. That was before he'd embarked on the hellish nightmare that was gaining access to Seversk.

"It is a _closed_ city, sir." The girl's tone matched his own. Her mouth twisted as she stared down at his mess of papers. She shoved them back across the counter with one finger as though she thought she might catch something from them. "You need to get officials from both _your_ country of origin _and_ the country you intend to enter to endorse you."

He'd tried. He'd _tried_. He'd _bloody well_ tried but no one would talk to him about signing papers to get into Seversk unless he was already a _citizen_ of Seversk. Because people in Russia, the best he could figure, were goddamn barmy. His fingers curled over the edge of the girl's window, gripping tight enough to hurt. "Perhaps if you didn't treat this like I was trying to break into Merlin's bloody _tomb_ , I could."

A portly man waddled in from the back room and Charlie was fully prepared to hate him. His frustration was a wild thing now, powerful enough that it was an effort staying focused on just _one_ subject. No, it was far more interested in lashing out at the world in general. It soothed some when the man shot the back of the girl's head an exasperated look and said in a robust voice, "Gemma, stop mucking about with the man." He frowned apologetically in their direction. "It's my stamp you need, son."

Charlie expected, based on _every experience_ of the past week, that the man would find some impossible hoop for him to jump through in exchange for said stamp. To his amazement, all that happened was he fiddled about on the desk next to _Gemma's_ elbow and plopped an ugly-looking red, and amorphous, blob on his form. Gemma sniffed and shuffled up his papers until they settled.

She stapled them together with purpose and handed their visas back to Charlie. "Welcome to Seversk." Her lip curled up and she smiled, tight and grim. "We hope you'll enjoy your stay."

Charlie snatched them out of her hand with a snort. He shoved Danvers' at him and mentally prepared the tirade he was going to give to Crawley when they got back to the preserve.

* * *

Seversk didn't have maps. And why should it when it didn't _really_ exist? "Someone ought to tell these fuckers that Yeltsin lifted the _Fidelius_ in '92," Charlie sniped, digging his hands into his pockets. His gloves had gotten confiscated in a surprise trip to Cherskiy for looking 'questionable.' He and Danvers had gotten shuttled off thousands of miles out of their way in what Charlie could only call an effort to divert them from getting to Seversk at all. Cherskiy was the very definition of _Russian_ – cold, bleak and depressing as hell. They'd been 'quarantined' there for 72 hours and they hadn't been allowed to leave the city's checkpoint, which meant a lot of sleeping upright in increasingly uncomfortable metal chairs.

Danvers had spent the whole of it with his arms folded over his broad chest, looking completely unaffected for the duration of their stay. The man was an immovable wall of muscle with the apparent incapability of being ruffled. Charlie was semi-convinced he was an animate statue. They'd been on something like three recoveries together and Charlie had heard him speak a maximum of fifteen sentences, and that included their time around the preserve too.

Seversk was an ugly mix of old and new, mashed together like ill-fitting puzzle pieces. The cherry on top was the badly paved roads and the distinct lack of sidewalks. Charlie's boots were top of the line but even they had trouble gripping on the snow over ice over gravel. Danvers, of course, had perfect posture to go along with his expert footing because serious blokes like him never lost their balance. Bloody statue-man.

Charlie stopped walking abruptly and frowned at Danvers. "I've got no bloody clue how to find these fucks." He knew the general direction but not the destination itself. Danvers' lips quirked a bit at the malevolence in his tone. Charlie was the even-tempered bloke on the preserve, known for mediating arguments and his general air of calm. Seversk had killed all the good will he'd had, murdered it dead and set it on fire, it did. "Shut up," he snapped. "We're lost unless _you_ know how to get there."

Danvers rolled his eyes and delved a large hand into his pocket. He came back out with his wand and let it rest on his palm, with a muttered, " _Point Me_." It spun until it was leading them off in a northeastern direction. Only a few blocks in, it started to snow. Not big fluffy flakes but small little pellets that felt more like you were getting hit in the face with pebbles.

"Brilliant," Charlie grumbled, pulling in his hood while he got out his wand to cast an _Impervius_. It apparently just _never stopped_ snowing in Russia. Charlie could not, for the life of him, figure why people would _choose_ to live here. By the time they reached the outskirts of town, Charlie had his hands fisted in the back of Danvers' robe so he wouldn't lose him to the roaring wind and fog of snow.

Danvers handed his visa to the man at the gate, who apparently was incapable of compassion and couldn't get them _inside_ before confirming their status. Once Charlie had foisted his off with numb fingers as well, they were led into a cavernous hall that hadn't been there half a second ago. Only one thing grabbed Charlie's attention the moment the door opened. He raced down the aisle, long benches making up its edges, to the crackling fireplace and held out his hands. He was sure only a moment longer and they would have fallen off.

Danvers, of course, strolled down the walkway leisurely. He was still holding his visa, frowning down at it. "They've only approved us for a week," he grunted.

Charlie knew as well as Danvers that recoveries could sometimes take months. Hell, the last one they'd been on _together_ had been a four-week long misadventure. Charlie pushed aside his robes and wiped his hands on the thighs of his trousers. "Of course," he snorted, "it's a _secret_ city. Have you ever met a more sanctimonious bunch of—"

"You boys look frozen," interrupted a reedy voice behind them. Charlie's mouth shut with a snap and he turned to find the speaker was an older woman. She looked like a kindly version of Professor McGonagall, her grey hair done up in a loose bun and her robes an inviting shade of magenta. Next to her was a 300-pound man with Weasley-worthy orange hair. He looked like a damn Viking. It shocked Charlie back when he spoke without a trace of a Scandinavian accent. He was Russian. Deeply, deeply Russian. How bloody odd was that? "You must be handlers from Sanctuary?"

Definite articles were a no go then.

Charlie straightened up and, with a glance towards Danvers, agreed, "We are."

Boris, which would be the Viking-Russian man's name in Charlie's head until he introduced himself – and probably after too, said, "Ve think it is Ironbelly, based on size of her alone." He put out his hands as though he was holding a pumpkin and puffed out his cheeks. Charlie smothered a smile behind his hand at the pantomime. Danvers, naturally, didn't crack. "Is not violent yet but is close to town and Muggles vill notice soon."

Charlie nodded to show he understood and the man looked pleased with himself. The way he'd halted over the words and tenses made it clear he didn't practice the language much. "An Ironbelly, really?" Charlie couldn't quite restrain his excitement. He'd only seen an Ironbelly twice and that had been in captivity – those beauties got _huge_.

Charlie's excitement was short-lived. It turned out to be nothing more than a damn Short-Snout and he'd gotten a talon embedded in his bloody elbow when some kid ran out to 'slay the dragon' himself. The mother had sobbed tears and snot onto his shoulder, her voice high and strident and wobbly while it made nonsense sounds at him against his robes that sounded like, "Spassybaw, ballchoice, _ballchoice_ spassybaw." Charlie sighed and awkwardly patted her head while Danvers cauterized the wound and dug out the claw with a gruff, "Shit, that'll scar up nice."

 _Of course_.

The good news was that they had finished up the finding, capturing and relocating bit in only four days, which left them three days to bask in the not-so-impressive glow of Seversk. Weren't secret cities supposed to be awe-inspiring to make up for the difficulty of getting in to them? Seversk didn't even have a down-home sort of charm but Charlie would be damned if he was going to leave one bloody second before he had to.

"I doubt there are any pamphlets lying around about the town and its highlights then?" Charlie said grumpily after they'd left with Boris' and not-McGonagall's thanks.

Danvers perked a dark eyebrow. "You think this place has _highlights_?"

Charlie had to give him that one. "Well, what do you think—" Charlie was interrupted by smacking headfirst into someone's very solid back. He scowled at Danvers for looking amused about it. It was _his_ bloody fault anyway for distracting him by actually _speaking_ to him in something other than grunts. It had been novel enough to turn his head and keep him from looking where he was going. "I'm sorry about that, I was — Malfoy? _Draco_ Malfoy?" Charlie couldn't seem to pick up his jaw.

Malfoy pulled his scarf up from where it had fallen down his neck and looked at him with a pinched expression. He was just as ferret-y as his brother had described him and Charlie almost grinned about that. "Do I know you?" he managed coldly. He was wearing a wool coat that he pulled in around his shoulders. What was wrong with people in Russia? All of them treated negative four weather like it was goddamn _balmy_. Romania got cold but not like _this_. This was not weather human beings were meant to live in.

Charlie stuck out his hand a second before he thought better of it. His fingers were freezing and if Malfoy actually shook them, it might be seen as more of an act of aggression than a pleasantry. When it became clear Malfoy wasn't going to reciprocate, he dropped his hand and scrubbed it against his trousers. He rallied after a moment and said brightly, "We've never been introduced, no."

He watched Malfoy's eyes track the color of his hair and the constellations of his freckles with a frown. "You're a Weasley," he decided, his eyes shooting over Charlie's shoulder to Danvers. It was obvious he had no idea what to make of him. Probably because Danvers was a good head taller than the both of them and looked like he could _and would_ snap either of them in two at the slightest provocation.

Charlie grinned at him. He'd always had a disarming smile. His mum had called it his 'secret weapon' for years. "Quite the brain, you are."

Malfoy looked unimpressed and his gaze flicked between them once again. "Seversk is a closed city, you know?" he asked snottily.

Charlie said through his smile, "You guys do like to harp on that, don't you?" He kept his tone light, bantering, and entirely ignored the hostility in Malfoy's. It seemed to be throwing him off, like he honestly wasn't sure if Charlie was being stubborn or oblivious. His smile kicked out even further. "How'd you get in then?"

Malfoy squared his shoulders, shifting on his feet. "I'm discreet."

Charlie almost laughed. He could picture the ease with which someone like Malfoy could get into Seversk, through bribery or looks it must've been the simplest transaction ever for him. It was completely unfair but still kind of funny. "Right," he said with a snort. Malfoy was still staring at him suspiciously when Charlie made up his mind to ask. "I've still got three days left on my visa. What's there to see in Seversk?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he bit out coolly, "I think you're confusing me with a tour guide."

Charlie tried to give Malfoy a friendly nudge but he backed away distrustfully before he could reach him. Charlie rolled his eyes. "Not an easy bloke to get to know then?"

"I'm sure your brothers have told one or two horror stories," he said loftily. "Seems like you've dodged a hex there."

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe I'd like to make up my own mind." And maybe he would. He didn't know Malfoy from a hole in the ground. He might not be such a bad bloke once you got past all the posturing.

Malfoy cut to the quick of it without batting an eyelash. "You really want that tour guide," he said, crossing his arms.

Charlie thought about denying it but instead decided to embrace his own underhandedness. "Well," he got out forcefully, full stop, flailing his arms. "It's not like there's information about the place just _lying_ around."

Malfoy grinned before he could stop himself. "And I'm the only person you've recognized," he drawled.

Charlie jutted his injured elbow out towards Danvers, who had barely moved a muscle and looked horribly uninterested in the proceedings. "I've got Danvers but he's not a local, not to mention he's a bit—"

Malfoy sized him up with careful scrutiny. Danvers didn't seem to mind. "Monosyllabic on a good day?" he decided, and Charlie was surprised at how well he'd read things. He inhaled sharply, said crisply, "Fine. I know someplace I could take you." His lips tilted into a playful smirk. "But only because I like your friend here," he said, nodding to Danvers.

* * *

Malfoy led them down a paved road, one of the first Charlie had seen. It wasn't half as well maintained as its gravel counterparts. The telephone lines overhead sloped in dangerously and some of the wires sparked where the light snowfall hit. Occasionally there would be an orange glow coming from one of the buildings, illuminating the white-turned-yellow shirts and long johns that were still inexplicably clipped to clotheslines on cramped little balconies.

Wind whistled through a cracked windowpane near his foot and Charlie was still staring at it when Malfoy stopped. Charlie rammed into the back of him a second time. Malfoy likely would have toppled over if it hadn't been for Danvers, who'd caught him by the elbow before disaster could strike. Malfoy glared at Charlie as he smoothed out his coat. He looked up at Danvers with a brief, "Thank you."

Danvers, as he usually did, grunted back.

Stairs led down to a below-street-level door and Malfoy took the lead. There was nothing special about it. It was dull brown with a square curtained window at eye level. He'd expected Malfoy would knock but instead he walked in and straight down the narrow stairs it opened onto. A sick-sweet smell clung to Charlie's nostrils the instant he stepped inside and he felt a headache already starting to fuzz out his vision. "You're taking a Ministry man to a speakeasy?" he hissed at Malfoy's back. Granted, he was a very loosely affiliated Ministry man – by choice – but Malfoy couldn't know that.

Danvers looked the very definition of a company man. It was a bold move on Malfoy's part that was for sure.

Malfoy ignored him and walked over to the bar, which spanned the entire length of one wall. The rest of the room was filled with small tables and opium smoke. What the hell was Malfoy thinking? "You have not been by in too long, Drago," the middle-aged man behind the bar was saying. His pronunciation was over hard with every syllable and he came at 'Draco' with more of 'g' than a 'c' because he dragged into it without the 'y' sound. His hair was thinning and what was left of it was combed over the crown of his head unattractively. He had a large mustache and a grin to match it. Charlie got a good feeling about him instantly. He leaned over the bar where Malfoy had taken a seat and waggled his bushy eyebrows. "La fée verte?"

Malfoy pointed a finger at him with a squint. "Enabler, Rostislav," he accused.

Rostislav pushed a glass towards Malfoy and popped the top off a square bottle. Green filled the round bottom and Charlie grabbed Malfoy's wrist. "Absinthe? Really?"

Malfoy snorted. "You know more than half its 'known' effects are crap, yeah?" His eyes roved over Charlie in full. "You could do with a flagon or two."

Charlie opened his mouth to say something scathing but Danvers knocked him back by taking the seat next to Malfoy and signaling for a round himself. Malfoy's lips turned down, impressed, and he clinked his glass to Danvers'.

"All right, one glass," Charlie grumbled, giving in, and taking the seat on Malfoy's right. He pretended not to be completely annoyed when Malfoy turned to Danvers and chatted him up about how he was finding Seversk and why they were there. Danvers noticed how not-annoyed he was after a few minutes and lumbered off to an empty table that was covered in ash and wax.

At least this way Charlie could make eye contact with Malfoy while he focused on Danvers, who was now talking to Malfoy like they were old mates since, apparently, Russia made everybody just the slightest bit _off_. One glass turned in to three or four and Charlie wasn't hallucinating anything. It was kind of a rip. Mostly he just felt mellow and smarter than he had in ages.

Malfoy placed a hand over his glass as he moved to raise it to his mouth. They were standing in the back corner under the stairs as Danvers was taking up most of their table, sprawled across it like he was. "I think you've had enough, Ministry man," Malfoy said with a quirk to his lips.

Charlie frowned. "I'm not really." He squared his shoulders, turning to face Malfoy. It seemed massively important that Malfoy know he wasn't really so opposite _his world_. "I do some liaising with the Magical Creatures division but I don't even like their _name_ , you know – Regulation and Control? S'fucking condescending is what it is."

"Too right you are," Malfoy said with a smile that tilted his mouth up. Charlie liked it. He tried to raise his glass a second time only to find Malfoy's hand hadn't left it. "That's 70-proof there, sheriff." Charlie stared. When the hell had Malfoy learned Muggle references? He had the excuse of a spark plug obsessed father but Malfoy had parents that would've actively stomped that out of him… which might explain what he was doing on his own in Seversk actually. At least Charlie assumed he was on his own. For all he knew Malfoy not only had his parents here but a wife or someone waiting for him. Malfoy's smile gained more territory across his cheeks. "You might want to hold off a bit. Wouldn't want to end up like Danvers over there."

Charlie blinked over at his unconscious partner. "I don't think I've _ever_ heard him talk so much." He turned wide eyes on Malfoy. " _Ever_."

Malfoy sniffed. "You're not the natural conversationalist I am."

Charlie grinned back at him, resisting the urge to push the hair that had fallen in front of Malfoy's eyes behind the curve of his ear. "I guess not." He wasn't quite as successful about reining in the urge to stare. "Your eyes are arctic, you know? They fit the landscape perfectly, like Russia in iris-form."

Malfoy snorted. He commented lightly, "You hate this landscape."

Charlie could feel the heat infusing his face but he ignored it. "I might be coming around to it," he said with a shrug. Malfoy's eyes were soft and warm, the ice in them shifting and melting, and Charlie felt brave enough to clear his throat and say, "So the hotel's… kind of, well. The Ministry's idea of crap which is really a few grades below crap."

Malfoy wore shock well. Charlie was surprisingly unsurprised. His brow went up sharply. "Are you looking for an invitation?" he asked after the pause had lingered and with less nonchalance than he'd been trying for **,** Charlie suspected.

Charlie knocked against his shoulder and grinned. "I'm hardly that desperate." He gazed up at Malfoy through hopeful blues that contradicted his words wholeheartedly.

Malfoy moved into the bracket of Charlie's body. "My flat's got a guest room." His grin turned impish, _teasing_. "I suppose you and Danvers can fight over who'll take the couch."

Charlie resisted the urge to throw something at his retreating back as he waltzed over to rouse Danvers.

* * *

Charlie's head was a pounding mess when he woke up the next morning on Malfoy's floor. He'd cleverly fallen off the couch at some point during the night and the ache in his knee told him he'd banged it hard on one of the coffee table's legs. There was a glass of water next to his head on said coffee table and Charlie downed it gratefully – his mouth feeling like he'd been chewing on cotton half the night. The bloody _freezing_ temperature had done the job of keeping it cool without the benefit of any charm. It was colder than he'd felt so far and he wrapped the fleece blanket Malfoy had given him more fiercely around his stocky form.

He twisted around in his blanket cape, only able to gape at the _open_ doors that led onto the balcony. What kind of torture was this? Charlie squashed his feet into his boots, realizing only after he'd levered his feet into them that they were on backwards. He shrugged down at his toes and shuffled out to the balcony, snatching up what must have been one of Malfoy's hats with the earflaps on his way out. He mashed it on over his shaggy hair and tied it up under his chin.

"Malfoy," he greeted the man. He was lounging in a metal - _metal_ \- chair on the outdoor landing, his torso stretched out while he sipped his tea. He stopped everything when he saw Charlie and, after staring a moment, turned to Danvers with an amused expression.

"Weasley," he said cordially. He nodded to Danvers. "Guilhem and I were just taking in the day."

Charlie shivered under his blanket and scowled. "You know it's negative seventeen out, you're going to freeze your damn bollocks o— _Guilhem_?" he squeaked out, his previous statement coming to a full stop as he rounded on Danvers with eyes that nearly popped out of his head.

Malfoy raised his gaze heavenward. "Do you two even _talk_?"

Danvers shrugged. "He's a fair handler," he grumbled out.

Charlie rolled his eyes before snatching up one of the last biscuits off the plate between them. "Thanks much, _Guilhem_ ," he said sarcastically, spraying crumbs.

* * *

Malfoy's plan for them today was even _worse_ , though slightly less illegal, than the previous night's.

Charlie stepped on the back of Malfoy's heel by accident as they snuck through the gray, gray, _gray_ facility. Malfoy turned around to glare at him and Charlie hissed, "We're sneaking into an abandoned nuclear power plant?" Malfoy ignored him with a roll of his eyes. Danvers did too because apparently Malfoy was the best thing since eckeltricity (or whatever the saying was) and was like the little brother Danvers never had (because _Guilhem_ was an only child, which Charlie knew because he and Malfoy talked _all the time_ about _everything ever_ ) and it was gang-up-on-Charlie-day all day every day.

" _Why_ are we sneaking into an abandoned nuclear power plant?" Charlie prodded.

Malfoy squinted over at Danvers and said woefully, "Is he always this fun-loving?"

Danvers snorted and opened his mouth.

Charlie pointed an intimidating-ish finger at him. "You shut it."

Danvers held up his hands sarcastically, utterly unaffected by Charlie's seriously awesome scowl – it was like the mutant baby of 'angry' and 'exasperated' and maybe the tiniest bit 'jealous'. Not that Charlie was going to own up to anything like that.

"Wizards can get a bit stir crazy in Seversk," Malfoy said finally, after deciding the question did have some merit after all. "It's a large enough city but without much through traffic." He shrugged as they reached a gridiron door that spanned the entire length of the room, side-to-side and ceiling-to-floor. It was bloody impenetrable. "It means if you're using at all," Malfoy was saying as he did some odd swish and flick motions with his wand, "Muggles are bound to spot you. Not so big a deal normally, right? They'll just explain it away themselves." Charlie nodded stupidly at this as Malfoy paused a bit as though waiting for a response. "But when you see the same Muggles day in and day out, well. What's that Muggle expression: once is happenstance, twice is coincidence and three times is a pattern?" There he went again, using Muggle phrases and terminology. "It means we need a place to practice. Hence, the sneaking in to an abandoned nuclear power plant."

The door shimmered and faded away to nothingness. A rhinoceros Patronus stampeded through the open space past them and ringed around them back inside where sparks were colliding overhead and someone was speaking in a booming voice about the bread prices at the local market. Robes of the most vibrant colors were commonplace and a crup was twining through Charlie's legs, forked tail brushing his calf.

"It's amazing." His voice was breathy and choked and he could see the same awe on Danvers' face that he felt himself.

Malfoy didn't even have the decency not to look madly pleased with himself.

Charlie actually ran into another handler he'd met in the Gotland preserve three years ago and Danvers was chatting in what sounded like German with a friend of his mother's when Charlie realized he hadn't seen Malfoy in ages. It only took a bit of asking around to find he'd gone outside with a few of the others. There was a sloping lawn that ran along the side of the factory where a protective bubble kept their spells from being seen by Muggles. Red and blue jets of light kept colliding into the edges of their enclosure and shimmering down sparks of light while wizards yelled and grinned and ran about in the valley below them. Malfoy had his arms folded under his head and he was lying in the snow with his eyes closed, the weak sunlight painting his cheeks. A weird fish was jumping and skipping about above his head.

"What kind of Patronus is that?" Charlie asked as he settled into the spot next to him, his foot slipping on the snow. He slid down a few inches before his heel caught.

Malfoy shot him a fond glance for his clumsiness and then squinted up at his weird-looking fish that was now twisting through the air like it'd found a sun-warmed patch of grass to roll in. "It's an axolotl."

"Making up words isn't going to get me to leave you alone, you know."

Malfoy actually laughed at that. The cold made it kind of breathless and full-bodied. "It's a salamander."

Charlie squinted at it. "Looks like a fish."

Malfoy's made-up-word skipped about more before bounding down to settle on his chest. "It's neotenic," Malfoy explained, "so they rarely grow lungs, which means they have gills their entire lives so they do live underwater for the most part." The fish – it _was_ a fish, even with the little legs – took up almost all of Malfoy's torso. "They're not usually this big, of course. But they're resourceful. They can regenerate their limbs," Malfoy said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the thing's purring. "Yours is a dragon, isn't it?"

Charlie spread out his arms helplessly. "I'm a living, breathing cliché, what can I say?" Malfoy hmmed and closed his eyes again, laying his arms down by his sides before moving them out. "You've got to do your legs too, for a proper snow angel." Malfoy grinned, eyes still closed, and did his legs as well. Charlie stared down at him and held up his hand against the sun. "You're kind of beautiful, you know?"

Malfoy stopped making his snow angel and searched out blindly with his fingers until he'd curled his gloved hand around Charlie's naked one. He frowned. "You need gloves."

Charlie grinned and squeezed Malfoy's fingers tighter. "Russia forbade them."

Malfoy's frown deepened. "That doesn't even sound true." Charlie snorted and lay down next to Malfoy so that their shoulders were touching. He cast a Warming Charm around them and closed his eyes too. "I can't believe they ever thought _you_ were the proper person to send out into the cold," Malfoy said. "You don't even have gloves."

"I'm fine in the cold," Charlie defended himself half-heartedly. "It's this barren tundra – which I suspect might be in the beginning stages of a new ice age – that's tough on the human body."

"Whinger," Malfoy chided but he was smiling so Charlie decided to let it slide.

Charlie hadn't seen hide or hair of Danvers in hours, the sky was starting to get dark and Malfoy's breathing was slow and even when Charlie decided to break the silence. He levered himself up on his elbow so he could look at Malfoy proper-like. He flicked at the snow with his finger, the Warming Charm thankfully still holding fast. "Why Seversk?" he asked softly, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

Malfoy was quiet so long that Charlie worried he might actually be asleep. Eventually, he said, his voice scraping out of him, "Originally? The name."

"Oh." Something thumped hard in Charlie's chest and he had to drown the urge to run. He screwed up his face until the rising tide of _no_ quelled. "You and he were—"

Malfoy's lips pursed and his voice went hard, cutting off the words as if that could negate the fact that they were ever said. "It's a good place though," he said forcefully, "to settle." Charlie's chest tightened. Malfoy didn't notice. His voice turned wistful, soothing. "Calm and magical enough to feel like home but not so much that you can't forget about it for a while."

Charlie's breathing stuttered. "To settle?"

Malfoy opened his eyes and stared up into his face, his gaze fierce and studying. He untangled their hands and nodded once.

"Oh," Charlie barely managed to get out. He couldn't believe how much it hurt. How much it _shouldn't_ hurt because he'd known Malfoy for _two days_. He couldn't really expect Malfoy'd flip his life upside down for someone he'd known _two days_. None of that explained why Charlie felt like all the breath had been knocked out of him.

Danvers seemed to know something was off between them when they rejoined him. He walked next to Charlie and let their shoulders knock together while he frowned at Malfoy's back. He barely grunted out a, "G'night," before he closed himself off in Malfoy's guestroom. Charlie collapsed on the couch. After spending an hour trying to get comfortable, he found himself opening Malfoy's door.

He could see Malfoy's eyes in the dark so he knew he wasn't asleep, neither did he seem surprised to see Charlie there. Charlie took that as an invitation. He crawled up beside Malfoy and Malfoy rolled over. Charlie slid their fingers together and curled up behind Malfoy, his cold nose pressed to the back of Malfoy's neck and their hands resting over Malfoy's heart. He was asleep within minutes.

They woke up late, only after Danvers knocked and awkwardly called through the door, "Five minutes." They were meant to be out of Seversk by noon and it was 11:53. It meant they'd have to rush to the checkpoint without breakfast or a shower. _Or a proper goodbye_ , Charlie thought as he watched Malfoy dress out of the corner of his eye.

He spent the whole way there thinking, _Three days. Three goddamn days. It's not worth getting twisted up over_. It didn't stop him from doing exactly that though.

Malfoy hugged Danvers when they reached the window and paused with his arms still somewhat stretched towards Charlie as though he had no idea of how they were meant to say goodbye. Charlie could relate to that. They ended up awkwardly shaking hands while Danvers stood there looking disappointed in them. Malfoy slipped out the door and that was it. That was all there was.

Charlie slumped against the counter and played with the chain on the pen while Danvers filled out their forms. He kept glancing off toward the window, thinking the glint of sun on snow was a glimpse of white-blond hair. He finally shook himself out of it and turned his back in order to look mournfully up at Danvers. Danvers' mouth tightened and he said easily as he stared down at their forms, "Can't imagine it's me you're looking for."

Charlie's eyes widened and they cut to the door questioningly.

Danvers cleared his throat and dropped his voice low, "I'm used to dragons. I don't think these two will be much trouble."

Charlie's gaze shot to the obnoxious girl and the penguin-waddle man who'd been there a week ago. He grinned wider than he had in ages. "Thanks, Guilhem," he said seriously, gripping the man's forearm.

Danvers shook his head, looking disgruntled.

Yeah, it'd felt weird about a second after he'd said it. "Danvers," he corrected quickly.

Danvers looked appeased and tipped his head in the direction of the door. Charlie's grin was back as he took off towards it at a full sprint. He could hear irate clucking coming from behind him before the door closed and sealed it off. He ran off the same way they'd come, hoping beyond hope that Malfoy hadn't decided to Apparate back.

He was at the corner of Deminskaya Ulitsa, trying to decide if he'd get to Malfoy faster if he went left or right when he heard a choked sob. He backed up a few steps to find Malfoy slumped over in the alley he'd run past only seconds ago. The back of his hand was pressed to his mouth and his breathing was shallow, ragged.

"Malfoy?"

Malfoy's head shot up and his eyes widened in amazement when they landed on him. "Wea—" he started to choke out when Charlie heard a scuffle down the street and realized Gemma and the Penguin were actively fighting Danvers' distraction techniques.

He grabbed Malfoy's hand and hissed, " _Run_."

Charlie dragged him along until he was lost himself, slipping and sliding on the snow and ice. Malfoy tugged him back by his hand. He was panting and his nose was red and Charlie thought there was a good chance that he was _the_ person, _Charlie's_ person, and it was completely mad and _perfect_ and everything he'd always heard it would be. "What are you doing?" Malfoy's voice was thin and warbling, like he couldn't trust Charlie was really _there_ with him.

Charlie could barely talk for the happiness punching its way up his throat. He pulled Malfoy close and grinned. "I can be discreet."

Malfoy stared at him, his eyes wet and a shaky smile spreading over his mouth as the full meaning of Charlie's words sunk into him. He reached down into his pocket, biting his lip. He pulled out a pair of smart-looking gloves and held them out to him. "Good," he said on a breathy laugh, "because I bought you gloves."


End file.
